Say What You Mean To Say
by MoonstoneAndStarDust
Summary: A few weeks after the battle of Hogwarts, and Hermione is growing restless, her frustrations mounting with a certain ginger. Will both of them finally be able to admit what they mean to each other?


There were a lot of words Hermione Granger could use to describe what she felt those first few weeks following the final defeat of Lord Voldemort: relieved, exhausted, uncertain, hopeful, grieved. Yet there was one emotion she hadn't quite been expecting, and it was proving to be quite a distraction from the rest of them.

Frustration.

What she'd hoped would bring an opportunity for herself and a certain lanky ginger to explore where their relationship could go, had proved unfruitful. The end of the war was supposed to mean the beginning of other things. Wonderful things that she'd been waiting months and even years for. And she thought he had been too. So what had changed?

Hermione had put more energy than she cared to admit into investigating this question over the past week. She understood why he'd been hesitant those first few days. She had been too, not wanting to jump into things when everyone was so fragile and wounds were still so fresh. If he'd sought comfort in her presence just for the sake of comfort, she wouldn't have been able to take it.

They'd had a moment like that the morning of Fred's funeral. No longer able to sleep past sunrise, Hermione had gone downstairs to make herself some tea and maybe see what could be done about breakfast, though no one had been eating much. The kettle had only just begun to whistle when she'd heard another set of steps coming down the stairs, and though she'd recognized his familiar footfalls, she'd still been surprised to see Ron enter the kitchen.

Unlike her, he'd been taking full advantage of sleeping in and going to bed early as well. She wasn't sure how much sleeping he actually did, since he usually looked just as bleary eyed as the rest of them when he did emerge from his room, but at least he was resting. Based on this current pattern, she hadn't expected to see him until right before the service, which was still a good four hours away.

He'd paused in the entryway, seeming almost as surprised to find her there as she was to see him. Neither had said anything, simply drinking in the presence of the other in a rare moment of solitude. And then he'd started breathing heavily, blinking rapidly as his eyes welled with tears, and Hermione had acted without thinking, rushing towards him and wrapping her arms around his waist. He didn't even hesitate before winding his arms around her shoulders and nearly collapsing into her embrace, silent sobs shaking his body as he did all he could to stay upright.

It was a solid five minutes before he pulled away, which Hermione thought hadn't been long enough. He'd wiped at his eyes and avoided her gaze as she offered to make him some tea, and then things were back to the now normal hesitancy that had grown between them. At that moment, she'd understood it. Even moments before and after as well. But it had been almost two weeks since then, and he seemed better. There was still a shadow of grief surrounding everyone - herself included - and there would be for a long time, but that was becoming less of a reason to keep themselves from living. Having the things they'd fought to have.

She'd actually seen him smile the past few days. It had been fleeting, during peaceful moments when he'd been with her and Harry and Ginny, and even one moment when George had made a rare appearance and a weak attempt at a joke at Percy's expense, but it had happened. She'd started seeing life in his eyes again and a familiar determination to do whatever he could to be helpful and relieve everyone else's hardships, from helping with meals to degnoming the garden to making sure his mum was always supplied with tea and a warm embrace whenever she needed one. It was hard to ignore how much he'd grown up over the past year, and the last few months in particular. And she could tell his family saw it too. She wondered if he knew just how proud of him they were. That he didn't have to do anymore than he already had to prove he was a good man. Exactly the kind of man she'd always known he was going to be.

So really, it was his fault that she was so impatient. She'd wanted to be with him even before he'd shown the type of maturity he was now, but then he'd gone and grown even more appealing than he'd been before, which she hadn't been prepared for. It had taken every ounce of self control she had to remain focused on their mission after Malfoy Manor and not jump him every time he looked at her with the most caring blue eyes she'd ever seen. And then she'd finally been unable to help herself, at what had felt like the last possible moment.

His response when she'd kissed him had been encouraging, making her heart soar with relief that he seemed just as eager to stop putting things off. If he'd actually been feeling anything like she had over the years, that is.

Unless he was just being a hormonal teenager and so of course he'd kiss whatever girl decided to throw herself at him. It _had _happened before.

Hermione quickly shook those thoughts away. They wouldn't help anything. That was all in the past, and they _had_ something. It couldn't be all in her head. Not only had she seen how he cared for her through various ways over the years, but throughout their interactions over the past few weeks and even months - which hadn't been particularly substantial in recent days - he'd developed this annoying habit of almost saying everything she wanted to hear, but not quite.

She had first noticed it at Shell Cottage, when he wanted her to stay behind rather than come to Gringotts with him and Harry. Of course, she'd fought forcefully against this, saying - just as she had when they'd infiltrated the Ministry - that she was just as capable and just as deserving of seeing this through to the end as he was. And the exchange they'd had then had been different from the one in Grimmauld Place, and not only had it stood out to her then, but it had continued to stand out to her as he continued to say similar things over the coming weeks.

"_Losing you is not a risk I'm willing to take."_

"_Ron, we have to help Harry. We can't think about ourselves. He's the one who matters the most in this."_

"_Maybe to the bloody Wizarding World."_

Those last words had been grumbled, and Harry had quickly brought the conversation back around to their plans, silencing the argument by stating that they were all going and there was no use arguing about it. But Hermione had latched onto his words.

Not a risk _he _was willing to take.

Harry mattered most, but to the Wizarding World.

Not to him?

As guilty as it made Hermione feel, she held onto the hope that maybe Ron really did care for her in a different way than he did for Harry. So much so that losing her seemed like a greater loss than losung the potential savior of their entire world.

And she couldn't deny that there'd been moments where she'd come very close to feeling the same, her sense of duty and a need to be selfless in the situation the only thing stopping her from embracing that feeling.

His protective nature had only heightened after she'd kissed him, never leaving her side throughout the entire battle and trying to insist she not go anywhere near the Shrieking Shack. And once the danger was over, it didn't really stop.

He'd insisted she go back to the Burrow with his family, which she wasn't about to argue with. But he'd still found ways to not really say anything, while actually saying a lot.

"_It's just best if we stick together, don't you think?"_

"_Right. There are still Death Eaters at large. It's what's safest for now."_

"_Yeah, that's true too, but not really what I meant."_

And just today after she'd helped him figure out the proper spells needed to fix the chicken coop…

"_Not sure I'd be able to function without you."_

"_You're a perfectly capable wizard, Ron. You didn't exactly _need _my help."_

"_Yeah, but that's not entirely what I meant either."_

Those hadn't been the only times, and he hadn't said anything else after that, changing the topic to what they'd get up to after dinner. Once all the funerals had taken place, they'd all fallen into the pattern of spending the day getting work down around the Burrow or going to Hogwarts to help with the recovery efforts there and even some days going into the Ministry to assist Kingsley, though Arthur, Bill, Percy, and Harry did this more than anyone else. The evenings would then consist of sitting around the fire, a game of chess being played, books being read, and others sitting in silence. But without fail, someone would ask earlier in the day what the plan for the evening was, and whether suggestions were thrown out or not, the day inevitably ended the same way. Hermione had a feeling that part of the reason for this was that they were actually free to do it. There was nothing urgent or pressing to get done, no Dark Lord hunting them, and no battles to fight.

So that evening had ended up the usual way, and Hermione found herself frustrated. With the monotony, with Ron, and with herself. There were so many things she wanted and so many opportunities now open to her, but Ron seemed content to continue to wait and not fully address what was between them. She didn't want to push him when he was grieving the loss of a brother and doing what he could to hold his family together, but the stolen kisses dropped on the top of her head and the occasional squeeze of a hand were starting to not be enough. She wanted to do things with her life and she wanted him to be a part of that, fully and without question. And as much as she wanted to be patient and understanding during a truly difficult season of life, Hermione's capacity to be those things was wearing thin.

Well, there was one thing she could do that didn't require him to act.

The room was quiet tonight, the occasional conversation absent, and when she closed her book and cleared her throat before speaking, it caught everyone's attention. Harry opened his eyes and looked across the room at her, his head resting in Ginny's lap on the couch. She could hear the scrape of quill against parchment cease as Fleur stopped writing her letter at the kitchen table. Molly looked up from her knitting and Arthur from his newspaper. Percy tore his gaze away from his book, and Ron and Bill pulled their eyes from the chess match they were playing on the floor in front of the fire. Charlie stopped mindlessly flipping through a Quidditch magazine, and George, who was lying on the ground next to his brothers, even managed to squint up at her.

"I...I've been giving a lot of thought to what to do about my parents," she began hesitantly, her voice slightly rough from lack of use. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at her with curious expressions. "I...well, they're in Australia, actually. And they're not exactly aware that I exist."

She held her breath and pulled at the sleeves of her jumper nervously as Molly went pale and Arthur frowned at her.

"I've talked to Kingsley," she continued quickly, "and while what I did was not exactly legal…well, I don't have to worry about that being a problem, thankfully."

A number of people breathed a sigh of relief, but Hermione's eyes flickered to the two occupants of the room who'd already known her secret as she continued. "Things didn't quite reach that far, as far as the war goes, so they should be fine, and I just received news today that they're allowing international travel again."

She paused, bracing herself for the next part as she looked between her two best friends. Harry had a look of understanding on his face, most likely knowing exactly what she was going to say next, and Ron had an expression similar to the frown his father had worn moments before.

"Seeing as I'm the one who performed the charm to change their memories, it makes sense that I'm the one to fix things. And I want to be the one to do that. I owe it to them, I think. So I'm leaving tomorrow to go find them."

It was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. Hermione sat frozen, unable to look at anyone other than Ginny, who gave her a slightly disbelieving look, but then took inventory of everyone else's reactions. She could count on Ginny to fully support her, only questioning her actions because of how certain members of her family would react. Which took a few seconds to really happen.

It was Molly who spoke first, and Hermione met her concerned eyes with what she hoped was openness, but she wasn't going to be able to talk her out of it. No one was. She felt like she'd put it off long enough already.

"Hermione, dear," she said softly, "are you sure its-"

"Like hell if you think you're doing that by yourself."

Ron's words were strong, daring anyone to argue with him. Hermione's eyes had jumped to him as soon as he'd opened his mouth, and he was looking at her like she was mental. Her hackles rose immediately.

"I can take perfectly good care of myself, Ron," she argued. "But Kingsley's been in touch with the ministry in Australia, and there will be people there to help me locate them and-"

"People we don't even bloody know!" Ron interrupted. "Bloody hell, Hermione. I understand you not wanting to put this off any longer, but there's no way I'm not going with you."

Even though her heart melted a bit at his words, she kept the stern and determined look on her face. "Ron, you're needed here."

He took a moment to glance at his parents, who both shook their heads vigorously. Hermione gaped at them. They were actually encouraging this?

"Nope, looks like I'm free," he said smugly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I won't be in danger, Ron. And I told you, I'm a perfectly capable witch and I don't need-"

"Who the fuck cares what you think you need!" he practically yelled, completely oblivious to how his mother gave a startled gasp at his language and how uncomfortable everyone else in the room was. And for the first time in weeks, months even, Hermione grew angry at Ron Weasley as she stood from her chair and glared down at him.

"I beg your pardon," she nearly snarled at him, "but seeing as we've been through hell and back this year - fighting for me to be able to decide exactly what it is that I want and need for myself, mind - I think you should care very much what I think I need!"

Ron gave a growl of frustration and stood to face her. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"No, I don't, Ron!" she said hotly, all her frustrations rejoicing at finally having an outlet and taking full advantage of it. "Honestly, the amount of times you think I know what you mean when I clearly don't is staggering."

"What the hell are you on about?"

"You keep doing this! Saying one thing but meaning another, or not really saying what you mean clearly, and I'm tired of it! So for once, can you please just say what you mean to say?"

They were glaring at each other, no one else's presence even registering with either of them as the room stayed still. And then Ron's eyes softened, and it felt like he could see every frustration she had as he looked at her. Good. She was done hiding from it all. She just hoped he was too.

"Hermione, I just got you," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "I'm not about to lose you so soon."

Her eyes widened at his words. It was close, so close to what she wanted - _needed_ \- to hear from him. She was done with assuming either the best or the worst. She wanted to know beyond a shadow of a doubt exactly what he wanted and how he felt.

"'Got me?'" she asked hesitantly. Ron sighed and ran a hand through his recently cut ginger hair. She hadn't minded the longer look on him, but he looked more like the Ron she knew like this, but also older and more mature somehow. And when he looked at her with conviction, his set and determined jaw made her feel like he wanted to show her just how much of a man he was.

"That's right," he said with determination. "You're mine, just like I'm yours. And even if you think things are safe and that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself - which I know you are - I've never really had much to call my own, and I think I have a right to at least get a say when it comes to making decisions about the things that are mine. And no way in hell am I ever going to have anything that's as important to me as you, so I'm not about to let you go halfway around the world without me. Not when there's still Death Eaters wandering about. I might not be of much use, but damn it, Hermione…"

He trailed off as his voice started wavering, his eyes growing watery with unshed tears as he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"I just got you," he repeated, his voice strong and determined, "and there's no way in hell I'm going to risk losing you so soon."

The silence was deafening, but whether or not the room actually was quiet or not was lost on Hermione. She was completely absorbed in Ron and the words he'd just spoken. It wasn't until he shrugged, shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and nervously looked away from her that she realized she'd been silent for longer than necessary.

"Might be a bit selfish of me," he said before she could find her own words. "But I think we all deserve to be that way now. With the things that matter."

If his words hadn't already softened her completely, she'd have been complete putty in his hands after that.

"All right," she finally choked out, wanting desperately for him to no longer be looking at his shoes. She stretched out a shaky hand to him, and his eyes snapped to it before flickering up to meet hers. A soft smile found a home on her lips, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to get it to go away as long as those blue eyes were on her. "Let's get you packed."

* * *

His heart was racing, his hand clasped tightly in Hermione's as she led him up to his room.

He'd really just done that. He'd made it perfectly clear how he saw their relationship. How he saw her. And he'd done it in front of his entire bloody family. What was it about Hermione Granger that made him make such a fool of himself?

Well, there were a lot of things, actually, but her stubbornness was what did it this time. And part of him couldn't help being annoyed by the fact that she'd gotten him to admit quite a few things to a roomful of people that he'd been planning to say in private. Even if he was just as guilty of being stubborn as she was.

They reached his room, the implications of the fact that this was the first time they'd had this much privacy in… well, ever, maybe… making the nervous energy in the room palpable. As he slowly closed the door behind him, Hermione dropped his hand, walking over towards his window. He watched her as she looked out over the dark evening, her arms coming up to hold herself as a light breeze blew in through the crack he'd left open that morning.

They couldn't just stand there not saying anything. Not after all that had just been laid bare.

"Where do we start?" he asked tentatively. Hermione slowly turned to face him, her eyes roving around his room.

"Well, it's technically fall there," she began reasonably. "So a little chillier than it is here. You'll want to make sure-"

"Not what I meant," he said quickly. Hermione looked at him with raised eyebrows. Right. Say what you mean, Ron.

"I mean with us," he clarified, and felt a thrill when her cheeks turned pink, though she kept eye contact. "I said a lot, but not everything, and you haven't exactly made things very clear to me either."

Hermione nodded, acknowledging his point. "I've been waiting. I didn't want to rush you. Things aren't exactly simple right now."

Ron gave a shrug and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Doubt they ever will be. _We_ never have been, that's for damn sure."

The subtle smile that hadn't left her face since he took her hand flickered a little larger. "No, I suppose we haven't."

Damn. He could stare at her for… well, forever.

"So," she said after what felt like a solid two minutes of staring in silence, a slight smirk on her face. "I'm yours, huh?"

"Right," Ron said, cringing a bit. "Sorry if that's too possessive or anything, but I didn't mean it in like an ownership type way, you know? You're obviously completely your own bloody person, and I suppose I should've done the thing properly and asked if you actually had any interest in being with me before just blurting something out like that, so I'd understand if you-,"

"Ron," Hermione cut him off with a light chuckle, her smile a bit more playful as she took a step closer to him. "It's fine. I would've said yes anyway-,"

"Really?" Ron cut in with a grin.

"-and I understood what you meant," she continued with a roll of her eyes, ignoring his question. "And I don't really mind the whole possessive thing, actually. In moderation."

Ron grinned at her. "I'll work on that, then."

Hermione smiled, though there was almost a hint of nerves to it."You also said," she continued as she took another small step towards him, "that you're mine."

Ron took a deep breath, letting it out shakily. That was one thing that he knew he couldn't change. Even if she asked him to. He nodded.

"Have been for a while."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, her smile so beautiful and bright he almost forgot the sun wasn't shining.

"That all right?" he asked, taking his own step closer.

"More than," she said with a vigorous nod. They were now close enough that if he took one more step, he could reach out and touch her. So he did, her breath catching in her throat as his fingers brushed softly against her cheek. And when he locked eyes with her, everything he'd ever used as an excuse to keep himself away from her - to wait until the right time - seemed silly. She was looking at him like she couldn't believe what was happening. Like she wanted this just as much as he did. And if that was true…

He moved even closer, both of his hands resting against her neck and his thumbs reaching up to stroke her cheeks. She seemed so small in his hands as she looked up at him, her hands going out to grip the front of his T-shirt as she gave a soft gasp. Their proximity, the feel of his touch, hell everything about this moment seemed to excite her. And his next words came easier than he'd ever expected them to.

"Do you love me?"

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in surprise. "What?"

He gave her a nervous grin. "Just answer the question."

"_You_ answer the question!" she said, her words indignantly shrill.

"You haven't even asked it," he said with a barely contained chuckle.

"Fine," she said with a resigned sigh, rolling her eyes before meeting his laughing ones. "Do you love _me?" _

He paused before saying softly, the words almost a whisper, "You know I do."

He knew those words had just changed his world. Maybe even hers too. Her mouth opened in shock as tears welled in her eyes. And just as he thought she was about to say it back, she surprised him.

"No!"

His heart started to race for a moment, thinking maybe he'd actually completely misread things. "What?"

"I _didn't_ know," she clarified, her eyes still wide in shock as she held back tears.

"How could you not?" he asked with a smile. "Figured it was embarrassingly obvious."

"Not to me," she insisted with a shake of her head. "Some things need to be said, you know?"

He brushed his thumbs against her cheeks, soothing the heat that had turned them pink. "I can say it every day, if you like."

She gave him a shy smile. "You don't have to."

"I want to," he insisted, "now that I actually can. I've been wanting to for a while now."

Her smile grew, her hands going from gripping his T-shirt to laying flat against his chest. "How long?"

He shrugged, trying to play it off like it was no big deal, though still nervous at the prospect of being so honest. "About a year, probably. Felt it longer, though."

She was positively beaming now. "I have too," she whispered, her words beginning to alleviate his nerves. "It's been difficult to keep it in."

"Yeah?" he asked, still a bit flummoxed that that could possibly be true. "You know you still haven't said it, though, right?"

She looked confused. "What?"

"You never answered my question," he said patiently. "Would you mind doing that? Some things need to be said, you know?"

Hermione seemed shocked for a moment, and then she was laughing, pulling herself closer to him by winding her arms around his thin torso and pushing herself up onto her toes so they were only a few inches apart.

"I'm not sure I can quite put into words how much I love you."

Ron let out a breathy laugh, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers as her words knocked the wind out of him. "I'm not quite sure I can believe that,"

"It's true," she insisted. They were so close that he could feel her words as her breath brushed across his face. "People might say I'm bright, but I have my limits."

Ron chuckled. "No, I more meant I can't believe you actually love me at all, let alone as much as you say you do."

She pulled back slightly, and he opened his eyes to see her looking at him curiously. "Why?"

He shrugged, his eyes focusing on her slight frown as he said, "I haven't exactly earned it, have I? Not with everything I've done."

For a moment, she didn't seem to realize what he was referring to, but then her eyes lit up with understanding, which was quickly followed by annoyance.

"You know I've forgiven you for that," she said, and he thought back to the conversation they'd had at Shell Cottage. It had been what felt like one of the few moments they'd had to themselves, and he'd taken the chance to apologize once again for leaving, but she'd dismissed his apology right away, saying she'd already forgiven him.

"And as far as you earning anything goes," she continued, "that's beside the point. As far as I'm concerned, love doesn't work like that. I love you for exactly who you are, no matter what you've ever done, the good and the bad. That's why they call it unconditional. I didn't start loving you because of something you said or something you did, and I'm not going to stop loving you for any of those reasons either. I just love you, and I choose to love you, and I know that doesn't entirely make sense, but I _did_ tell you it was hard to put into words."

Ron felt like he could laugh and cry and die happy all in the same breath. And it wasn't just what she'd said, but the way she'd said it. So fiercely, like it was a fact she'd read in a book so there was no way it couldn't be true and she'd defend it to her dying breath. And a sense of peace fell over him, knowing that she'd do exactly that.

"So you'd still love me if I never finished my education?" he asked, doing his best to keep a straight face. She nodded without hesitation.

"And what if I decided to work with George at the shop instead of becoming some heroic Auror?" She nodded again. He paused, pursing his lips in thought.

"What if I accidentally ran over Crookshanks with the car?"

"Ron!" she said with a shocked laugh and a scandalized look on her face. He laughed too, but being this close to her for so long without kissing her was a bit too much to ask. So before he'd even really stopped laughing, he lowered his mouth to hers, swallowing the gasp she let out right before she kissed him back.

And he'd thought their first kiss had been spectacular.

She shivered against him, either from the slight chill in the room due to the night air, or from the feel of his lips on hers. She tasted like the tea she normally drank before bed, hints of vanilla and chamomile overwhelming him and warring with the taste that was so inexplicably her. Her lips were slightly dry, but so were his, a sign that they were both still recovery from their months spent on the run, their skin constantly exposed to the elements.

But there was nothing but soft skin under his hands as he lovingly stroked her cheek. And as he pulled away briefly to adjust the angle of their heads, he felt her fingers press into his back, and he wished the thin layer of cotton wasn't there to keep him from feeling her beautiful fingers - probably ink stained and a bit calloused - against his bare skin.

He nudged her mouth open with his as he kissed her again, though she didn't need much convincing. And when her mouth closed around his lower lip, it was all he could do to keep from groaning as he shoved his hands back into her outrageous locks of hair. It had been so damaged during the battle that a lot of it had to be cut off, so she'd been unable to pull it back as easily. Ron didn't mind this in the slightest. He loved the way her hair bounced around her face and had a mind of its own. It also meant he had the freedom to run his hands through it - a privilege he'd been aching to have for years now, and was determined to take advantage of.

If the way she moaned against his mouth as his fingers tangled in her hair was anything to go off of, she was more than in favor of his obsession. And as much as he wanted to kiss her into oblivion, there was something in him that held back. That _wanted _to hold back. To savor things and not rush them. So he slowly pulled away, but not too far, and tried to catch his breath as he looked at the girl in his arms, whose eyes were having a hard time opening as she lazily looked up at him, her mouth still slightly parted.

"I love you," he said, dropping one more quick kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers. "So much."

He let out a sigh of contentment as Hermione smiled and ran her hands up and down his back. "Yeah?" she asked. "How much, exactly?"

Blimey, how could he possibly measure it? He loved her more than Quidditch. More than chocolate frogs. More than magic. More than any type of recognition or glory or success he could ever have. He met her sparkling brown eyes and answered as honestly as he possibly could.

"I love you more than anything."

She was kissing him once again before he could so much as blink, her arms going around his neck and pulling him to her. Ron wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close and even lifting her off her feet as she kissed him repeatedly, murmuring between kisses how much she loved him too.

Merlin, and they could have been doing this weeks ago. Months ago.

"Thank you," said Ron when she finally pulled away, placing one more quick kiss on her lips and setting her back on her feet. "For being patient with me these last few weeks. Hell, the last few _years._"

Hermione gave him a soft smile as she rose up on her toes, hugging him tightly around the neck. With a sigh of contentment, Ron closed his eyes and revelled in simply holding her. He'd been able to do things like this here and there over the past year, but never with the freedom he wished to have. Now he had that freedom. He knew she wanted him to hold her, and she wanted to hold him too.

Bloody hell, he was starting to sound like such a sap. Love did that to you, he supposed.

"It was worth it," she whispered against his ear. "Besides, you had to be patient with me too. I haven't been perfect."

Ron gave an amused snort, turning his head to kiss the top of hers. "Just promise to never set those bloody birds on me again. No matter how angry you get."

She chuckled softly against him before pulling away to look up into his eyes. "I promise," she assured him, before a slightly apprehensive look grew on her face. "We never really talked about all that, did we? There's probably a lot we could talk about, I suppose."

"Another time," Ron said dismissively. "We've got to get me packed, remember? Besides," he continued as he brushed back her hair and gently held her face in his hands, beaming down at her as she looked up at him with so much love and trust and hope, "we've got all the time in the world."

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to post this in honor of Hermione's birthday, but time got away from me. Anyway, Happy Birthday Hermione Granger-Weasley! There are moments in this referenced in chapter five of _Show A Little Faith_, as well as _Remembering_ but those definitely happened after this so you don't have to read them. I'd been wanting to do this for a while, as I have many ideas in my head about how all this came about, so it was about time I get one of them in writing! I read a lot of the "they both second guess and think the other doesn't actually want to be with them," stories, and while I can see them potentially doing that and have enjoyed reading my fare share of stories with that premise, I don't really find it all that realistic after everything that happened. Watch me write one of those one of these days, though. It could totally happen. **

**Hope you enjoyed! Leave a review if you did!**


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